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&quot;We have a new assignment tomorrow.&quot; My boss says, leaning against his desk.<br /> &quot;Where to go?&quot; I ask.<br /> “Hilton Head Island. Pack some formal clothes in case we rub elbows with some powerful people.” He walks towards me.<br /> “Sounds good. Are we undercover for this job?” I stare at him.<br /> ”Yes. We&#039;ll come up with a backstory.“ His hand is on my waist.<br /> “Why don&#039;t we just pretend to be a couple?” I can feel my hands sweating. <br /> “Smart. That&#039;s the most plausible reason.” He smiles.<br /> ————————<br /> BOBBI<br /> &quot;I&#039;ve been here all morning and he still hasn&#039;t shown up. At this point it&#039;s almost lunchtime and I haven&#039;t done a single thing today. It just seems weird to me.&quot;<br /> &quot;I told you, Tyson keeps odd hours.&quot; Jessica&#039;s reassuring voice comes through my phone&#039;s speaker.<br /> &quot;But it&#039;s my first day and I have no idea what I&#039;m even supposed to be doing.”<br /> &quot;I told you everything you need to know.&quot;<br /> &quot;You did not. You said in addition to my computer skills I&#039;d also be answering the phone and doing some clerical type of work.&quot;<br /> &quot;See. I did tell you.&quot;<br /> &quot;Jessica, there&#039;s no business phone here.&quot;<br /> &quot;He probably locked it up in his office.&quot;<br /> &quot;Alright, I ‘ll try to find, but...&quot;<br /> &quot;Sorry, hon, but I need to go. You can find the phone.&quot; And she hangs up.<br /> I&#039;m starting to think I never should&#039;ve listened to Jessica. When she told me she was changing jobs and thought I should take her position, I should&#039;ve politely declined. At the time, I was working from home, like many people do now. But when she reminded me I&#039;m barely twenty-six years old and suggested maybe I needed to return to the real world, I guess it struck a nerve.<br /> It takes me several attempts—nineteen to be exact—but I finally catch the tumbler just right so the lock turns over and the door pops open.<br /> Too dark to see anything, I reach blindly through the opening and feel around on the wall until I find the light switch.<br /> Once the room is lit up, I muster the courage to push the door wide open and step inside. I have to say, at first sight it&#039;s very disappointing. His office is nearly as empty as the room out front.<br /> There&#039;s an old metal desk in the middle of the room, like the one I&#039;ve been sitting at all morning. Behind the desk there are several black duffel bags stacked against the wall in a corner.<br /> I poke around the desk and check inside the drawers but don&#039;t find anything. It&#039;s completely empty. Weird.<br /> I run over to the door and check the front room again to be sure I&#039;m still alone. I am.<br /> There are four, no five, bags total and they&#039;re all exactly the same. I don&#039;t see any name brand or decals on the solid black bags. They appear to be cheap, generic polyester. But upon closer inspection they&#039;re a thicker canvas material.<br /> I lift one from the top of the pile and place it on the floor before dropping to my knees. It seems full and it&#039;s heavy enough for me to need both hands while moving it.<br /> My heart is racing as I grab the strap and start to unzip the bag. I can almost hear it beating over the sound of the floor creaking under my feet.<br /> I move to adjust my feet and remember I&#039;m kneeling. It wasn&#039;t me making the floor creak.<br /> I immediately spin around to see a man standing in the open doorway smiling at me. &quot;Hi.&quot;<br /> And oh my God, he&#039;s gorgeous.<br /> &quot;Jessica sent me.&quot; It&#039;s all I can think of right now.<br /> &quot;To steal from me?&quot; He laughs a little, and I think my heart may have just skipped a beat.<br /> &quot;I was looking for the phone.&quot; Did I really just say that?<br /> &quot;Well, it&#039;s definitely not in there.&quot; He points down to my hand, which is still firmly gripping the strap of the duffel bag.<br /> Why am I still holding the strap?<br /> &quot;I&#039;m sorry. This is so embarrassing. I can&#039;t believe this is how I&#039;m meeting my new boss on my first day. Wait, you are my new boss, right?&quot;<br /> God, I hope so. Look at that body.<br /> &quot;No, I&#039;m not your new boss.&quot; He steps in, closing the door behind him. &quot;I&#039;m your new daddy.&quot;<br /> What?&quot;I&#039;m not sure what you mean.&quot; I get up to leave but there&#039;s nowhere to go. He&#039;s standing in front of my only way out.<br /> &quot;I think you know exactly what I mean.&quot; He takes off his shirt and slowly unbuttons his pants as he approaches. He shifts from side to side, herding me back and into the corner until I trip and lose my footing on the stack of duffel bags.<br /> I end up on my stomach and before I can turn over or get up, he&#039;s on me. I can feel the heat of his breath on my neck. &quot;Don&#039;t fight it.&quot;<br /> Grabbing my hips, he moves me onto all fours in front of him. He&#039;s too strong and I can&#039;t stop him, or maybe it&#039;s that I don&#039;t want to stop him.<br /> The skin of his stomach gently touches the small of my back and I feel something else suddenly pressed up against my hip. And it&#039;s huge.<br /> I reach back, desperately trying to get my hands on what must be the most beautiful...<br /> &quot;Hello... anybody home over there?&quot;<br /> Why is he waving at me?<br /> &quot;I asked your name.&quot; He&#039;s still standing by the door, and he looks confused. &quot;I told you mine and now you tell me yours. That&#039;s how these things usually work.&quot;<br /> Jesus Christ, I really need to stop reading so much smutty romance.<br /> &quot;Umm, sorry.&quot; I drop the bag strap and stand up. &quot;My name is Bobbi.&quot;<br /> &quot;Well, Bobbi Lee,&quot; he says with a half smile, &quot;if you&#039;re all done rifling through my bags, I could use a minute or two alone here.&quot;<br /> &quot;Of course.&quot; I awkwardly try to step around him and head for the door, but then I notice his shirt.<br /> &quot;Well, plain old Bobbi Lee,&quot; he says with a half smile, &quot;if you&#039;re all done rifling through my bags, I could use a minute or two alone here.&quot;<br /> &quot;Of course.&quot; I awkwardly try to step around him and head for the door, but then I notice his shirt.<br /> &quot;Are you okay?&quot; The material is torn, and it looks like he&#039;s bleeding. &quot;Is that blood?&quot;<br /> &quot;What? No, no.&quot; He lifts his t-shirt, revealing a large and very painful looking hematoma on his chest. &quot;It&#039;s just a little bruise.&quot;<br /> &quot;That&#039;s not little. What happened?&quot; Before I realize what I&#039;m doing, I&#039;ve walked over to him and am tracing my finger along his skin around the discolored and swollen flesh.<br /> A smile flashes across his face. &quot;It&#039;s no big deal. Some idiot shot me this morning.&quot;<br /> My eyes widen. &quot;Someone shot you and it&#039;s no big deal?&quot; I can&#039;t believe how casual he seems about it.<br /> &quot;It was only a bean bag round, so I&#039;m sure it looks much worse than it feels.&quot; He turns away, taking off his shirt, and I can take a hint.<br /> &quot;Personally, I don&#039;t think a bean bag chair is worth getting shot over, but that&#039;s just me. I&#039;m a futon kind of gal.&quot; Now I feel like I&#039;m talking too much. &quot;All right then, if you need me, I&#039;ll just be in the next room, staring at the wall like I have been all morning.&quot;<br /> &quot;Oh yeah, the phone.&quot; He opens one of the desk drawers, pulls out an old, black flip phone, and tosses it to me. &quot;I have the charger for it around here somewhere.&quot;<br /> &quot;Are you kidding? How old is this thing?&quot; It slips out before I can stop myself.<br /> &quot;Is it old?&quot; He seems completely unaware of how weird this is. &quot;I thought flip phones were back.&quot;<br /> &quot;Not the original ones.&quot;<br /> He laughs out loud, and I can see him grimace a bit at the end. &quot;Well, I guess I&#039;m kind of an original guy.&quot; He winks at me.<br /> &quot;You&#039;re a little weird.&quot;<br /> &quot;Says the girl I just caught snooping around her new boss&#039;s office, and on her first day too.&quot;<br /> He&#039;s got me there.<br /> &quot;I know when I&#039;m beat. So, I&#039;m going to head back out and sit behind my desk.&quot; I turn to leave and hold the ancient cell phone up as I go. &quot;Maybe I&#039;ll see if I can still get dial-up internet on this thing.&quot;<br /> As I sit down, I hear him punching the keypad to the closet I noticed in the back of his office. I hear duffel bags being slid across the floor and the grunts and groans of a man who&#039;s in more pain than he wanted to admit. I hear him step through the door and close it.<br /> And then I don&#039;t hear anything. Fifteen minutes go by without a sound from inside his office.<br /> What is he doing in that closet?<br /> The door is still wide open, so I get up and walk around the front room, pretending to stretch.<br /> His office is still empty and the door behind his desk is still closed.<br /> How big is that closet?<br /> The flip phone suddenly starts vibrating on the desk across the room and I quickly scramble back to silence it before he catches me in yet another embarrassing situation.<br /> Maybe I&#039;ll just stay put until he comes back out.<br /> The phone immediately vibrates again and a steady stream of text messages begin arriving over the next several minutes.<br /> Before I can finish scrolling through the tiny display, without a touch screen, I hear the door open inside his office.<br /> When he reappears, he&#039;s buttoning a new shirt and he&#039;s in a completely different set of clothes, at least as far as I can tell.<br /> “So how do I work? No computer.” I ask.<br /> “Don’t worry.” He said as he walked out of the office, returning seconds later with two of the black duffel bags.<br /> &quot;This is for you.&quot; Slowly unzipping one of the bag, he pulls out a laptop.<br /> &quot;Is there anything you&#039;d like me to get started on today?&quot; Gripping the edge of the desk, I roll myself back over and open the laptop.<br /> &quot;There&#039;s a credit card in the side pocket of the bag. Feel free to set this space up however you&#039;d like, within reason.&quot;<br /> &quot;You want me to set this space up however I&#039;d like?&quot;<br /> He shrugs. &quot;Within reason. And why not? You&#039;ll be the one working in it.&quot;<br /> &quot;Okay. Is there anything else?&quot;<br /> &quot;You&#039;ve got the phone, right?&quot;<br /> &quot;I do.&quot; I hold up the world&#039;s oldest flip phone.<br /> &quot;Great. Just let me know if there are any messages I need to hear.&quot;<br /> &quot;Is that all?&quot;<br /> &quot;Thankfully, yes.&quot;<br /> &quot;All right then, is there anything else you need from me before I go?&quot;<br /> “No.” He smirks before heading toward the door.<br /> I watch his back disappear from the door, preparing to plan the decoration of the office.<br /> ***<br /> TYSON<br /> &quot;Umm, good morning?&quot;<br /> Bobbi suddenly appears at the open door to my office.<br /> She&#039;s early.<br /> &quot;Hey.&quot; I jump up and turn off the music. &quot;You&#039;re here early.&quot;<br /> &quot;I am here early and I was hoping to steal you for a few hours this morning, if possible?&quot; Her smirk says it all.<br /> &quot;Steal me?&quot;<br /> Bobbi takes her time, slowly scanning the nearly empty room I&#039;m now calling my office. &quot;We still have some work to do here.&quot;<br /> “Yes, we will do it. But before that, accompany me on a mission.” I say.<br /> “Wow, it’s so cool. Where are we going?” She asks.<br /> “Follow me.” I reply.<br /> Once we&#039;re in my car and on the way, Bobbi asks again, &quot;Where are we going?&quot;<br /> &quot;A few years ago, I took on a client—a married couple that needed help separating. I got the woman settled into a new life down here at the beach. But…he&#039;s found her.&quot;<br /> &quot;What&#039;s the plan, boss?&quot;<br /> &quot;I&#039;m going to drive straight up to her cottage, go inside, pick her up, then escort her out of there.&quot;<br /> &quot;And if her husband is there?&quot;<br /> “Could I have let him discover us?” I sneer.<br /> “Okay, let me look forward to it.” She says.<br /> Fifteen white-knuckled minutes later, we speed over the Cooper River Bridge and onto Folly Island.<br /> The roads are narrow, and I spot him the moment we turn onto her street. &quot;That&#039;s him in the black pickup on the right.&quot;<br /> &quot;Oh no. He is here. What are you going to do?&quot; she whispers, as if Sharyn&#039;s husband might hear her.<br /> &quot;Ignore him.&quot; I drive right by his truck and straight into the driveway. &quot;At least for now. Get out and walk straight to the side door. I&#039;ll be right behind you.&quot;<br /> She immediately does exactly what I instructed and within seconds we&#039;re inside.<br /> &quot;Bobbi, this is Sharyn. Sharyn, this is Bobbi.&quot;<br /> I dispense with the quick introductions and get to the point. &quot;Are you ready to go?&quot;<br /> “Yes.” She answers immediately.<br /> “Let’s go.” I say.<br /> We quickly return to the car, and at that moment, a rampaging car appears on the road. Ron stick his head out of the driver&#039;s seat, &quot;Don&#039;t even think about running away, Sharyn, you can never leave me.&quot;<br /> &quot;Leave me alone!&quot; Sharyn ducks down on the floor of the back seat, screaming, &quot;Just leave me alone!&quot;<br /> “What now?&quot; she asks.<br /> &quot;Don&#039;t underestimate my driving skills.&quot; I say.<br /> I start the engine and the car quickly merges into traffic. I haven’t raced in a long time and this is so cool.<br /> &quot;I, I kind of want to throw up,&quot; she say.<br /> &quot;Hang on, girl, I can get rid of him in a minute,&quot; I reply.<br /> &quot;Thank you so much.&quot; Sharyn cries.<br /> &quot;You&#039;re welcome, this is my mission.&quot; I say.<br /> Bobbi spends the next twenty minutes comforting and encouraging Sharyn as we drive back to the office. After I make some arrangements and book her flight, it&#039;s time to drop her off at the airport.<br /> &quot;Thank you, both of you.&quot; Sharyn hugs us on the sidewalk outside the departure terminal.<br /> &quot;This is for you.&quot; I hand her an envelope with as much cash as I could put together on short notice. &quot;It&#039;s not much but it&#039;ll get you started. Let me know when you&#039;re settled.&quot;<br /> She tears up and hugs me again. &quot;I cannot thank you enough. You&#039;re a saint.&quot;<br /> &quot;Good luck, Sharyn.&quot;<br /> She turns and walks into the terminal without looking back.<br /> “I had a great day.” Bobbi watches Sharyn walking away and says.<br /> “Me too.” I say.<br /> ***<br /> BOBBI<br /> &quot;Spill all the details about your new job,&quot; Lauren says over the sound of the blade in her hand hitting the wooden chopping board.<br /> I shift my weight on the bar stool and rest my forearms on the counter. &quot;I was out with Tyson today taking care of some work-related stuff and he got a phone call that sent him rushing to the aid of a client in Folly Beach. He had helped her escape an abusive husband, and today the husband found her.&quot;<br /> &quot;You&#039;re kidding me.&quot;<br /> I shake my head. &quot;Nope.&quot;<br /> &quot;What happened?&quot;<br /> &quot;We raced off to her house and got her out while her maniac husband trying to catch up with us.&quot;<br /> &quot;Oh my God.&quot;<br /> &quot;Right?&quot; I squeal the question. &quot;It was insane, and Tyson calmly raced until we were completely free of the man.&quot;<br /> &quot;Jesus, a chase too? It sounds like an action movie.&quot;<br /> &quot;It was scary but also exhilarating at the same time.&quot;<br /> I nod effusively. “He also gave Sharyn some money to start her life in another place. He was so kind.”<br /> &quot;Wow. You like this guy, huh?&quot; Lauren asks.<br /> I nibble on my bottom lip while I allow myself to ponder what my feelings for Tyson are. In terms of physicality, he fits everything I&#039;m attracted to. But who doesn&#039;t like a tall, dark, and handsome man?<br /> “Maybe yes.” I say.<br /> “What are you going to do?&quot; She asks.<br /> “Actually I_” The text alert goes off on my phone.<br /> Tugging it from my back pocket, I glance at the screen. &quot;Hold on a sec, this is Tyson texting me.&quot;<br /> Still want to go away with me?<br /> Sure. Where are we going?<br /> Hilton Head Island. Pack some formal clothes in case we rub elbows with some powerful people.<br /> Okay.<br /> I&#039;ll pick you up at noon.<br /> Sounds good. Are we undercover for this job?<br /> Yes. We&#039;ll come up with a backstory.<br /> Why don&#039;t we just pretend to be a couple? That&#039;s the most plausible reason we&#039;d be together.<br /> That works.<br /> I send him one more text with my address and then I meet Lauren&#039;s curious gaze.<br /> &quot;I&#039;m going away with him this weekend,&quot; I confess.<br /> &quot;What?&quot; she shrieks excitedly.<br /> &quot;Calm down. It&#039;s for work. He said I handled today so well, he could use my help this weekend on Hilton Head Island.&quot;<br /> &quot;Girl, you need to take advantage of this opportunity and seduce him.&quot;<br /> &quot;Funny you mentioned that. I just suggested we pretend to be a couple.&quot;<br /> Lauren grins. &quot;It&#039;s a sign.&quot;<br /> I laugh. &quot;It&#039;s a sign all right.”<br /> &quot;Because you&#039;re desirous,&quot; Lauren states.<br /> &quot;You&#039;re not completely wrong, but I&#039;m not going to seduce Tyson. In fact, I&#039;m going to text him back and tell him I changed my mind.&quot; My thumbs tap against the screen, typing out the message. Lauren slaps my phone from my hold before I hit send, then grabs it from the table before I can.<br /> &quot;What&quot; I frown.<br /> &quot;You&#039;re not going to cancel on Tyson,&quot; she states.<br /> &quot;I&#039;m not?&quot;<br /> &quot;Nope. You&#039;re going to pack your bag and be waiting when he comes to pick you up.<br /> My nose crinkles with concern. &quot;He said to pack some formal clothes. What am I going to do?&quot; I don&#039;t own anything that comes close to mildly dressy, never mind formal.<br /> &quot;Leave that to me.&quot; Lauren rises and takes hold of my hand, drawing me to my feet. &quot;I have a closet full of beautiful dresses just going to waste. I&#039;m sure we can find something that will let you have intercourse...&quot;

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